Ode to a Rock Cake - by Jane Holliday

 

It’s six am. The day has dawned; a distant

Blackbird flaunts his song, a jaunty

Robin follows on.  The mist will clear, we’re told.

 

So what shall I do that’s not too bold?  Watch a film?

Set up a jigsaw?  Write a letter? Bake a cake?

None of that beguiles.

 

“Cheer up, good woman and hold your peace

And wait for something better.”

Of course, I had forgot: today is Rock Cake Day, when

Carol comes with all her gear to sweep the dust away.

She proffers me a lovely fruit-filled bun, home-made from what I hear,

So life is not too hard to bear.

 

If only we can get unlocked, (but not before the eighth of March)

Dismiss our virus fear and watch our flowers appear.

Then let’s relax and have some fun,

And then I’ll eat the promised bun.

Jane Holliday, member of our 9.30am Sunday congregation and also of the All Saints Film Club

 

I feel sometimes as if the
Whole of my soul has been
Scooped out with a big
Spoon; it lies alongside me
A tired and restless shell.
Sometimes something comes
And touches it - perhaps a beautiful and dominant tree,
Or a piece of Bach, or a tiny flower
In the grass; these can
Penetrate the fog which envelopes
Me, which will no doubt thicken
In the deep of Winter.  But primroses
Will follow and all will be well.

By Jane Holliday